


Reach for Me Through the Rain

by thewolvescalledmehome



Series: Blossoms of Hope [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Canon Era, F/M, Jonsa Spring Blossom Challenge, Jonsa Spring Challenge, Kinda, Post-Canon, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 08:36:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18149582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thewolvescalledmehome/pseuds/thewolvescalledmehome
Summary: Jonsa Spring Challenge Day 3: storm and rainWhen the first summer storm rolls in, Jon and Sansa realize they still have a lot they've got to deal with.





	Reach for Me Through the Rain

Sansa woke with a start, her heart pounding and skin covered in a chilled sweat. She sat up quickly, looking around the darkened room for what caused her to jolt awake in such a way. It wasn’t a nightmare—she didn’t remember what she’d been dreaming about, but she knew it was something happy. She felt that lingering happiness quickly dissipate as the panic overtook her.

Suddenly, a crack echoed around the keep, rattling the tapers along the walls.

 _We’re under siege_ , she thought, flinging her blankets off and rushing for the corridor.

She was sure she’d see soldiers rushing about to fortify Winterfell, but it was quiet.

Another _boom_ sounded. Sansa flinched.

The door in front of her flew open then and Jon stumbled out.

“We’re under attack,” he gasped, reaching out for her. Sansa clutched his arm—the first real contact they’d had since their wedding night.

They both braced themselves, waiting. For another hit of the battering ram. For soldiers to come pouring over the parapets.

The flash of light Sansa saw through Jon’s open door gave her pause.

No fire she knew looked like that.

It was then she noticed the steady pattering against the roof of the keep.

With a hysterical, choked giggle, she released Jon’s arm and rushed for his window, flinging the drapes out of the way.

The blast of rain that hit her had her cackling with relief.

“Sansa?” Jon called.

“It’s a storm. Thunder!” she cried, sticking her hands out into the shower.

The feeling of the rain running down her arms made her feel like a girl again. She couldn’t remember the last time she played out in the rain. It was probably far before she left Winterfell.

“Do you remember the last time you were out in the rain?”

“Dunno. Probably some battle.”

“Don’t you want to replace those memories?”

“What?”

“When we were all children, we used to play out in storms like this. You and Robb would hold races and Arya would throw clumps of mud.”

“That feels like it was from another life time.”

“So, let’s make memories from this one.”

“How?”

“Let’s go out in the rain.”

“Sansa…”

Sansa felt Jon’s eyes search her face, no doubt looking for signs of lunacy.

“Let’s be young again. Carefree. Forget the wars and the winter.”

His hand wrapping around hers was her answer.

Still in her shift and small clothes, Sansa pulled him through the corridor, giggling like the teenaged girl she was never allowed to be.

In the yard the rain was cooler than she expected it to be, but it was nothing compared to the snows that had only recently melted. The air around her was warm enough that no goosepimples appeared.

Sansa spun with her arms outstretched wide, feeling the rain, the feeling of innocence wash over her. Her laughter bounced around the walls of the yard, louder and less restrained than it had been since she had played with dolls.

It wasn’t until her bare feet slipped against the wet grass and she toppled in a heap that Jon joined her in the rain.

“Are you all right?” he asked, offering a hand.

Sansa was sure her shift would be stained, but she felt brazen and reckless and young.

Instead of taking Jon’s hand, she pulled him down beside her.

“Oof,” he grunted. Sansa turned on her side to face him. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you like this,” he said softly, his hand reaching up but suddenly stopped.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been like this,” she answered. Her fingers twitched against the grass, wanting to reach out and take his hand. To tell him to do whatever he started to.

Since she her suggestion of him marrying her, her boldness seemed to shrivel. She still spoke out in council meetings, but her nerve to broach anything with Jon suddenly disappeared after the ceremony.

She wasn’t sure what made her brash side, her wit and steel, suddenly soften around Jon.

Sansa realized she was staring and looked away, hoping her blush wasn’t obvious in the dark and in the storm.

Jon sat up beside her suddenly, and Sansa thought he must’ve noticed, especially since he turned away from her and coughed.

“Your…erm… Your dress…” he muttered, voice strained.

She glanced down and saw how the rain had made her shift sheer and how it clung to her body.

“Oh,” she breathed. “You are my husband, you know,” she said softly, sitting up beside him.

“Aye, I am. I also said making heirs isn’t why I married you.”

“Looking at me isn’t going to result in any heirs.”

Jon turned then, his eyes lingering on her face.

Sansa pushed herself up then, standing in front of him with her dress plastered to her body from the steady fall of rain.

“Sansa,” he croaked, standing as well.

She reached for him then, pulling him against her.

Just as his hands closed around her waist the rain changed from a drizzle to a downpour, the rain pelting against them.

Sansa shrieked, running for the keep, still clinging to Jon’s hand.

They tried to be quiet as they slipped, dripping, back through the corridors and into their wing. She had to suppress her laughter and their bare feet slid on the stone floor.

It wasn’t until they were in front of their doors that Sansa felt all of her excitement and joy start to vanish.

He would return to his chambers and she to hers, just as they had every night except for their wedding night.

Even that night, she had slept in Jon’s bed for appearance’s sake and Jon had slept on the floor.

They were husband and wife.

She chose to marry Jon for a reason. She knew he would protect her. She knew he would never use her the way others had tried. He would never ask for more than she was willing to give.

She just didn’t realize that he would never ask for anything. Or how lonely it would be, being married to him.

Being alone terrified her. After all the years of wishing she were free, of willing to take being alone over the alternative, wishing for her family, now that she had it, she wanted to be a part of a family.

She and Jon were supposed to be a family, start a family.

After months of marriage, she was still alone.

“You’re frozen,” Jon murmured, holding her hands closer to his chest.

“Jon…” She stepped closer, until their hands were trapped between their chests.

“This isn’t about Davos asking about heirs the other day, is it?” he asked, his eyes focused on her hands.

Sansa slipped one of her hands from his and cradled his face with it, forcing him to look at her.

“This is about not wanting to be alone. You’re my husband. I want you to be my husband.”

Thunder rumbled again and Jon flinched closer to her.

“Sansa… I’m still a broken man. I don’t know if I’ll ever be whole.”

“I didn’t marry a broken man. I married the King of the Seven Kingdoms. The man who fought the dead and won.”

Jon stepped away from her then, dropping her hands. The loss of contact chilled her.

“You did, though, Sansa. You did marry a broken man. I was broken before the wars started. When I came back… When the Red Woman brought me back… I’ve been empty. I don’t know if I can be anything other than hollow.”

“You are not empty, Jon Stark,” Sansa declared, taking ahold of his shoulders. “An empty man would not have had those beautiful glass gardens built for his wife. An empty man wouldn’t rule the Seven Kingdoms with fairness and grace. An empty man wouldn’t be as kind and generous as you are.”

“I’m…”

Sansa saw the pain in his eyes and felt as he flexed his scarred right hand. She remembered seeing that look when she first arrived at Castle Black. She’d seen it again when he returned home from Dragonstone. He honestly believed he was broken. That he came back changed, wrong.

Sansa threw her arms around him, holding him tightly.

He gave her her home back. Her family. An empty man wouldn’t do that.

“Sansa, what if…” he trailed off, voice quiet. She felt his arms soft around her waist.

“I don’t care, Jon. I want you, even if you are broken and empty. I want you.”

Jon had raised his head as she spoke and Sansa found herself crashing her lips against his.

His arms lifted from her waist, but then she felt them tighten, almost to the point of forcing the air from her lungs, but she loved it. She hoped he held her tighter.

Her shift had started to dry, leaving her chilled, but his hands burned through the thin fabric.

She felt his chest swell against hers as they broke apart.

“We don’t have to make any heirs tonight,” he whispered.

“We don’t have to be alone either. I want you, Jon Stark.”

She felt his shuddering breath at her calling him by his name, and this time she did lose her breath as he kissed her, fierce and hungry.

* * *

Sansa lay on top of Jon, sticky with the sweat that replaced the rainwater.

Part of her wondered if what they’d done would beget heirs, but part of her hoped it wouldn’t just so they could try again.

She was tracing her fingers along the part of his collarbone that was exposed from his tunic. His eyes were closed and she could see the smallest smile on the corners of his lips.

She couldn’t remember how often she’d seen him smile before tonight.


End file.
